PRETTY BAD DAY AT BLACK ROCK
by SamWin98
Summary: "I know it immediately when I get to the motel. I don't know is it the 'bigbrother-radar' Sam always whines about or just an instinct, but I just know it. Something isn't right. Something inside the room I left my little brother in isn't right" Just a short tag to Bad day at black rock. Written from Dean's point of view when he finds Sammy, Kubrick and Creedy at the motel room.


**just a short fic right after Dean came back to the motel room where Kubrick was ready to shoot Sam. (Bad day at black rock) I'm sorry if I made this a little too...hmmm, blaah-blaah to you, but I couldn't help it. And, who doesn't love a hero Dean? **

**thanks to fixusi for pre-reading, what would I do without you? ;) ****Dean's pov, btw.**

**~OoOoOoO~ **

I know it immediately when I get to the motel. I don't know is it the 'bigbrother-radar' Sam always whines about or just an instinct, but I just know it. Something isn't right. Something inside the room I left my little brother in isn't right.

It takes only half a minute to find a parking lot for my baby and other 30 seconds to park her, but it's still a whole minute too much for me. I hurry out of the car and slam the door a _little_ too hard, but I don't have time to apologize my baby. She'll understand, she likes Sam too. (Like I'd let her keep Sam aboard if she didn't)

I rush towards the room I rented for Sam, and the closer I get, the stronger the smell of smoke gets. And smoke _never_ means anything good. Not even when there's a smell of sausage with it. I'm serious, we were grilling once, me and Sam, and while I went inside to get some beer for, like, 50 seconds, Sam somehow accidentally got his whole left hand burned _and_ the sausages to the muddy ground. That of course happened about 10 years ago or something, but still. It was the last time Sam said "I would like to eat sausages".

While my left hand slightly touches the doorknob, the other one wanders towards my gun which is placed between my pants and boxers. I don't know what could've possibly happened while I was catfighting with that Bela-bitch, but it's not anything good. (Bullshit. Sam's one hell of a trouble magnet, what could possibly _not_ happen to the kid while I'm not around? Exactly)

I waste a couple more seconds to decide whether I should kick the door open and attack inside like-a-boss, or just carefully open it and hope nobody notices. (Though of course nobody notices if Dean Winchester himself tries to sneak in somewhere, because _come on_ if somebody's a true pro, it's me) I choose to use the second tactic since I know a jack squat about the happenings inside.

I slowly sneak inside the room, leaving the door little ajar to avoid any extra noises. I watch my step closely, so closely I forgot to check the place I left Sam at, and when I hear someone loading a gun I almost get a seizure just about thinking I was too late after all. My gaze raises quickly as lightning and I hardly even investigate the situation before talking out loud. They're both men, the other one has a gun pointed on my baby brother's head _and_ they also tried to hurt him. (This is so typical. If Sam Winchester doesn't get himself in trouble just by sitting in a chair, then nobody does) I don't actually give a crap about what happens to them, I only need to get that gun out of the dangerous area (which obviously means anywhere near Sam) and get him out of here. Though it wouldn't hurt to watch those guys' brains blow along the walls. Then my eyes take a quick look to Sam and _wait, I take that back_, they didn't only _try_ to hurt Sammy, they already _did_.

They're _dead_. I'm going to kill them. Period.

It's not anything serious, I guess, but it sure looks bad. Half of Sam's face is covered in blood, his lip has ripped and swollen and he looks like he has to focus to stay awake. (No, I don't make things bigger than they are. I'm the one who gets to decide whether Sam's injures are serious or not. If I say he looks bad, then he looks bad)

I start talking, trying to win some time to make a new plan (yes, of course I had a plan before. Who'd be stupid enough to storm in the middle of a killing attempt without a _plan_, huh?) but it sure is hard to hex an awesome fallback when you're not supposed to use a gun or any weapon _and_ your little brother's a hostage. I command my brains to work and I accidentally lower my gaze to the cupboard beside me and_ then_ it snaps. I keep on going with the smalltalk, and then I make a move and the blue, innocent pen is on my hand. My huge plan B kind of sucks and it's pretty much just a desperate attempt but before the gun-man gets to say his mother's name the pen is flying through the air and_ thump_ it's stuck inside the gun. I can't help a laugh and hey, I _am_ Batman. No, actually I'm much_ more_ than Batman because how many times has Batman saved his reckless, stupid little brother's sorry ass? Exactly.

I doesn't take long until both of the men are lying on the floor, unconscious. For a little while I'm so high of my huge achievement I just stare at Sam with a sneaky smile on my face, but the reality hits me and in seconds I'm beside Sam, ripping the tape off of my brother. At the time I'm done, Sam's eyes are half closed and I'm starting to be afraid he has a concussion.

"Seriously, Sam? Fate sure does hate you", I snicker, trying to hide my guilt for leaving him behind like that. It feels like everything good I try to do turns out to be something bad /and/ it usually involves the only person I can't live without to get hurt. And _that_, ladies and gentlemen,_ that_ sucks.

Sam lazily blinks and makes an eye-contact with me. "You told me you don't even _believe_ in Fate", he says and smirks. I laugh a little and wipe some of the blood on his face off with the sleeve of my jacket.

"One crappy guardian angel you have, Sammy", I blurt out. Then I stand up and straighten my hand to Sam. He grabs it and hauls himself up - just to lose his balance and fall on my arms with his full weight.

"Whoa, whoa, tiger, try to hold up for a sec", I say and tap his back. Sam only groans and stays the way he is, leaning to me. I decide Sam needs another minute or so to collect his strength so I kind of wrap my hands around his torso. (But it's not like I'm not hugging him or anything. I'm _not_. I'm just resting my hands on his back, you know)

We stay the way we are for a little while, and then Sam groans again and slowly starts pulling out of the not-hug. I keep my hand on his shoulder, just to make sure he doesn't fall on the ground if the sasquatch legs of his suddenly starts to feel weak.

Together we walk through the motel room, my hand supporting Sam's back, and we're almost at the door when I remember the two jack-asses on the motel's floor. Nudging Sam slightly I stop and turn around.

"We can't just leave them like this", I tell Sam and point the guys. Sam looks pretty surprised when he smirks "What, suddenly feeling bad about leaving two random guys to lay on the crappiest motel room ever?"

"No", I say, getting a little frustrated, "What I meant was we can't let them go just like that. They have to suffer for what they did." Something in Sam's eyes lights up, like he finally understands what I mean.

"Dean, come on. It's not that bad. That guy, Kubrick, he just did what he thought God had commanded him to do. And Creedy? He actually tried to make Kubrick stop, Dean. He didn't believe in that Jesus-crap." Oh. Well, I guess I could let that Creedy guy go, then. But the other one is so going to suffer, I swear. You don't get to point a gun to my little brother's head without paying.

"Dean, come on. Quit it." Sam's amused voice interrupts my heavy thinking session, and I turn around to face him.

"Dude, they beat and tied you up, and then beat you up _again_ and oh, that Kubrick guy had his gun on your stupid puppy-dog face and he was, like, two seconds from blowing your brains out, but that's_ nothing_, right?"

"Exactly"

"Sam, you could've died. He would've killed you if I didn't make it in time. I'm not gonna let him go", I snap at Sam, the exasperation clearly notable in my voice. And _yet_ Sam just stands there and smiles like an idiot, as if me being a little angry at Kubrick for nearly bloody _killing_ my brother makes him happy. Stupid brat.

"Dean, no. Let's just go, okay? My head's starting to hurt and we _still_ need to burn that stupid rabbit's foot. Deaaaan, please" and I can't help it, Sam's making the goddamn _eyes_ and God help me because I must be the easiest person in the entire_ universe_. I take a deep breath and shake my head, passing Sam when I get to the door and push it open. Sam follows me, not far behind and I can _feel_ his friggin' smile and happiness even though I don't see him.

Stupid, spoiled brat.

And when I reach the Impala and Sam calls my name to make me slow down a little bit, I guess it was worth it. Because Sam's leaning on my baby and smiling like a kid on Christmas eve, saying "You're wrong. I have the best guardian angel ever", and I'm _so not_ blushing when I mumble something unwise and get to the car.

I'm _so_ not.

**~OoOoOoO~**

**okay, I admit it, that was pretty random but I had a huuuge urge to write something up so no can do :D  
remember, reviews are pure gold :*:***


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